


Changing Forms

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 03:39:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11222529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Water comes in three states of matter.Liquid, ice and steam.





	Changing Forms

The thought process of the bored is very complicated, especially the consciousness of a child for they require a vigorously tight regime in order to keep their minds occupied. When a mind wanders off the forest tracks it will get lost and surely such a young mind would perish in the inhospitable ecosystem. The lupine winds in combination of the ever-shifting shadows on liquid like shapes are a formidable pack whose main objective is to stir fear within those imbecilic souls who chose to walk the off-track alone and unarmed. 

A child of ruby made this mistake on the day of the blizzard. Yet seemingly unfazed the forces of nature, they trekked alongside the running river till they reached the open plains between the distant village town and a crossing to a new map. Rummaging inside their pockets, they counted several healing items, an immense amount of coins and a faded cyan ribbon slightly discoloured a soft grey. In the background, puffs of smoke could be seen clouded over the unusually quiet town. The air smelt of burnt wood, flesh and ash. Lots of ash. 

Warm. Water is warm. But it can change. It can lose its warmth.  
Like the Colosseum, the trees encased their battle arena. A dirtied arena from a fight long fought. One walked in and out with crown on their head and a foolish, clown like smirk on their face. The challenger? He was not to be heard of again, his name not spoken except by the scarred screams of his kin. 

The child… They came, they saw, they conquered. That was that. Anyone who wants justice would be given a mere downcast glance before a fatal slash. Anyone who wants to change the irreversible is thrown into the ground face first and muted by muffling till they rang out of air. Anyone who wants mercy would be given an obnoxious cackle before a ringing silence. 

A scarlet, silken scarf shivering in the snow, that’s how the scene was suspended and the stage, was closed. Exeunt the questionable protagonist, striding off into the curtain cast contours of the evergreen shrubs. One eye stared down from the canopy of the tallest spectator box, its illumination shining like that of the moon. Slow claps for a showdown unexpected, echoing the empty cavern. Another smile lit up, but neither for satisfaction nor contentment.

Cold. Snow is cold. That’s all snow is… Cold water.   
Coniferous trees dotted the freshly painted canvas of a now dissipated snowstorm; their overlapping needle leaves forming a dilapidated shelter for the nomad currently residing underneath. Their eyes shone with the crimson of the blood that they have spilt, their skin a sickly grey from the ashes that clung onto them as a gently reminder of their sadistic murder spree. A crooked child.

What about steam? Well, it’s hot… no, scorching water. Steam is scorching.  
The lone audience stumbled in hastened steps in the direction of the assassin. He didn’t want justice; nay he wanted vengeance in more methods than one. He didn’t want change; nay he was consumed with disbelief. He didn’t want mercy; nay he wanted the overspilling of the red dye in clear waters.


End file.
